Now there's a story

Someone pointed it out to me just the other day that the world ended somehow when Covid-19 happened. Not from the pandemic itself but somehow society went into lockdown one way and came out of it another with no explanation. I tend to agree with them. Once upon a time life had evolved on a celestial plant named Earth. All living things maintained a natural balance. Life was fine until humans evolved to fuck everything up. I certainly don't defend the human race, we're a broken species that cannot be left unsupervised. Other life throughout the universe is avoiding us and maybe we're under observation but we're hopeless and cannot exercise a single redeeming quality for the sake our own survival. Stupidity ensures survival. It's simple. Nature exists in balance with every system establishing coexistence to maintain the balance. This works, it's worked for millions of years before the idiot sapien creatures and God willing it will continue to work after the idiot sapien creatures. People don't know balance, it's in our bipedal genetics to never be balanced. We think our primitive consciousness is far superior to all living things and that gives us right of dominion but people are the dumbest living things in the known universe. A wild animal, quadrapedal, gracefully runs across an open landscape, majestic, fierce, free and either pursuing or being pursued by another wild animal, quadrapedal, gracefully across the great plains. Neither are aware of the hole in the ground up ahead. One of them strike it, their footing offset, they tumble in motion, quickly regain their footing and the pursuit continues. The human idiot, barely bipedal, stumbles carelessly and clumsily ass over face. Spills hot coffee upon their torso after stepping out of the overcrowded coffee roastery where they stub their toe on the uneven pavement stone protruding. Society celebrates this monumental event across the great plains of social media. Take a stand. It's your opinion, people either agree or disagree. White folk owe no tribute, no apologies, no compensation, nothing. Racism, extremism, sexism, fundamentalism. These ugly realities are survival. Why are we determined to ignore them?

Don't be distracted by the shining light being emitted from that mobile entity of evil you hold in your hand. Fight for what you believe. Disagree, on everything. Ask questions, on everything. Read more books, ebooks are not books, audiobooks are podcasts. Read the damn words printed in ink in paper. A single word remains etched upon the desolate remains of the dead planet named Earth as discovered by interstellar travelers either in space or in time somewhere in the not too distant future. 

ANUNNAKI.

Now there's a story...

I needed some time off, Annual vacation time. People always ask with the innocence of insensitivity, "how was your vacation?"

This time around my reply being I feel like Harry Potter returning from Hogwarts to stay with the Dersleys. That's how severe my Stockholm Syndrome feels. Hogwarts, the world of magic, the Weasleys, the Malfoux, quidich, even Voldamort's shenanigans are more pleasant than dithering around the suburbs of London with cousin Dudley. It's time to take a break, step back from the digital trauma social media enables. Social media pages breeds online hatred because the online world is a toxic environment. I have no need for social media toxicity. I have direct channels of communication with the people with whom I want to communicate. Social commentary online is not discovering inner peace for me. The doom scrolling is my enabler. I'm closing it down, again. By reducing my digital footprint, and it's the same as one's carbon footprint, I can redirect my energy to more positive things without toxicity. There are interesting people out there. I recently listened to Jaron Lanier on a podcast. There are islands of useful resources scattered throughout the vast expanse of the online cesspool. It's healing the cracks. It's been a peculiar time, as far as peculiar times go. I'm not a practitioner of magic, I don't need to be but if I were my conjuring would be of the natural world, Radagast. I respect animals, people not so much. Two little birds eat from the discarded cracker biscuits in the parking lot outside the Spar where I stopped to purchase lunch. Sunshine of the winter morning is peaceful. I sat observing two male birds circle each other and circle the discarded cracker biscuits, each would in turn partake in the indulgence of a morsel and each would in turn fend off the other from the buffet. The instinctual behavior of nature intrigues me. This micro telenovella playing out in the midst of an ignorant human environment. Alas all was over, the birds flew off, cracker biscuits quickly abandoned and forgotten with the arrival of a giant Bridgestone tyre entering the parking space and crushing them into the rubber tread pattern. I strongly recommend taking time to observe people like they were the subject of a nature documentary. Sadly applying narration to cctv footage is not Discovery Channel material and more sadly neither is home video found footage uncovered in a serial killer's residence. Isn't that interesting, people will film and study everything else but each other because that's just too creepy. I neither condone nor condemn such proclivities, society is far more broken than wildlife voyeurism. I'm suggesting people take a look around more, see the world in which we live, emerging from the digital depravity into the peace embrace of nature. Then again, by my observations, the woman exiting the vehicle is far too high strung and far less interesting than the Bridgestone radials attached to her vehicle. I do not view the world through a person lens. As Agent Smith explained to Morpheus: 'I'd like to share a revelation during my time here. It came to me when I tried to classify your species. I realized that you're not actually mammals. Every mammal on this planet instinctively develops a natural equilibrium with the surrounding environment but you humans do not. You move to an area and you multiply and multiply until every natural resource is consumed. The only way you can survive is to spread to another area. There is another organism on this planet that follows the same pattern. Do you know what it is? A virus. Human beings are a disease, a cancer of this planet. You are a plague, and we are the cure.' Says a man in a suit. I see life as shared time on this planet. The universe and everything in it was here long before us and will be here long after is. Our lives pass through in the briefest of moments. Having shared my tale of friend of human, a feral feline befriending and sharing lunch with my work colleague I next encountered a wayward traveller of flight and fancy. The little fella hitched a ride perched upon the wiperblade of my windshield. My guess he was tired and befuddled by the morning traffic jam that a windy few miles got him out of the bustling city slum and into the calm scenery of suburbia. I watched him fly off toward the treetops, all is well with the world. I love real magic.

Now there's a story...

There are stories out there not posted on blog feeds, message boards, status updates. There are photos captured not as seflies, check ins, profile pic, avatar. There are video clips not live streamed, uploaded to YouTube, monetized. Boxes of VHS, CD, DVD, cassettes and photo albums find their way to charity shops and junk sales. Handcwritten journals, notebooks, the margins of text books, letters and postcards discarded or forgotten. There is a growing curiosity for life before the internet. Now there's a story. The irresistible temptation to produce and disrupt a nostalgia project popping up in online services ads. Content finds a way. A mate shared a post on our chat page, a lifelong dream come to fruition. The milestones and memories over a couple of decades and a humorous honourable mention from the 2000s of a fishing trip that ended with the fuzz, an arrest and handcuffs. I'm still not allowed to go fishing.

Now that's a story...

The Middle Finger Society - My dog made the list

What AI got wrong about international grooming gangs and domestic pet care.

The activities of my dog interest Interpol, officially. There is a satellite overhead dedicated to monitoring his nap times, dietary intake, who and what he barks at, his movement patterns across the front yard and back yard are being analyzed for comparison. Black vans with tinted windows park in my street at different times of the day. Poor pup is paranoid, or clueless as he's kind of an idiot by canine standards. The constant scratching at a "skin allergy" is more likely him trying to remove the tracking chip the animal shelter tagged him with because now some secret government agency is listening and documenting the frequency of him snoring and farting when asleep. And why is my bow legged mixed terrier shelter dog of barely average intelligence climbing the ranks of international watchlists?

Ask Google, it's AI made the mistake.

'The dog stinks, he needs a bath.' I was thusly informed. I haven't the time to schedule bath time with man's best friend on a sunny weekend afternoon so I Google it. Hey Google, Grooming parlors in my area.

Did you know. AI has a track search history function storing every keystroke you make, saving all the data for law enforcement monitoring and doesn't tell you it's doing so, and you can't turn it off. AI assumes the end user, that's us, is permanently lying, cheating and stealing so every search is run through algorithms designed by Judge Dredd. There are no pseudonyms, there are no finger errors, there are only human interests. The machine never gets it wrong, people get it wrong. AI doesn't search exclusively to the general expression but it also searches each individual word in the phrase. It does this to track suspicious online activity. The machine never gets it wrong, people are evil. Because the world is pure evil constantly defiling the puritan sanctity of the internet all searches need to be explicitly correct and and accurate. Boy howdy did things escalate quickly.

Hey Google, Grooming parlors in my area.

This is your first warning of suspicious content searching violating the service terms and conditions of safe usage and may be reported to the relevant authorities.

Wait, what? 

Hey Google I meant grooming parlors in my area for dogs.

This is your second warning of suspicious content searching violating the service terms and conditions of safe usage and may be reported to the relevant authorities.

Wait, no, Jesus H this AI crap.

Hey Google, I'm looking for grooming parlors in my neighborhood, it's for my dog, he's dirty and he stinks. I don't have the time to groom him. I require the professional services of a grooming parlor.

Thinking...

There are several professional services listed in your area offering grooming services for dogs. Please provide more information to refine the search such as age, sex, weight, height and a brief description.

Okay, this is getting weird...

Those government raids portrayed in movies are overrated. Obviously my dog is not being detained or interrogated or groomed but my fictional Google search was inspired by actual stuff; Monday morning work memos. 

As my ongoing love/hate career slowly meanders passed the half way mark to retirement I'm often reminded how my healthy cynicism and borderline mental instability have walked beside my on my journey to planned obsolescence through employment redundancy from planned operational downscaling leaving me, the "OG" of analog, technologically unviable. How does a corporate succubus successfully suck all passion, joy, enthusiasm, intellectual property and the basic human desire to continue living from each and every employee plugged into their consumer abyss feeding it an infinite stream of capital revenue?

Monday morning work memos. These emails read like Chris Hansen's transcripts for Dateline with a corporate letterhead. The language is subtle and uncomfortable. Sentences of false assurances dripping with the sleazed innuendos desperately coercing the reader into willful compliance. I feel the need to take a shower after reading them. And while I cannot disclose any of the lecherous content without the real cyber police kicking down my door to cease my workstation and deport me to a detention facility where unpleasant things happen to unpleasant people I can share my honest opinion of how creepily similar current AI produced business communication is to current communication used for non AI human trafficking grooming. simply put, the gushy wording wants me to agree to everything, agreement without question. Agreement without reading the fine print, terms and conditions, disclaimers. My generation is the reason those models exist; I read the Apple Agreement, still haven't agreed to it. 

Enter the man in a black suit. He never introduces himself. He never speaks. He asks me nothing. He says nothing. He gives me nothing. He takes nothing from me. The man in the black suit does not exist. My dog still has a guilty look on his face. Upon the fringe areas of society rests understanding; I sat not more as I need not. Some time over the weekend if the weather is fair I shall bath my dog, he still stinks.  

            

Ja-nee Frikkie - Looting, it's a lifestyle celebration.

Everyday we wait for something to happen. Sommer anything for us to celebrate with the bokke, the brannes and the lekker braaivleis maar the world is so blerry confused right now the we'll by accidents celebrate the wrong stuff. I don't think South Africa is any more kak than those other countries doing blerry stupid things on the social media, dis mos kak everywhere but check this Fifa world cup story, it's not rugby maar the ouens watch it because this one oke at our local bar is fantastical about football he got the whole bar interested, he's in the Scotch guard, gooied een moerse jol everytime Scotland played, sommer drank the blerry bar dry too. He tunes me at half time Bananas Bananas, team South Africa might not do too kak this time. I mean who would have thoughts our team would advance to the knockout rounds, but they did. And who would have thought the fans would celebrate like protesters getting loud enough to start looting, but they did maar moenie worry there wasn't any looting. It was still a scary pair of spectacles to experience. Bokke fans go bos maar I've never seen rugby fans go bananas, nie eers for WP winning the Currie Cup at Loftus. Mense are losing their piggies in celebration, it's amper looting in July because they're genuine happy that something good happened. Not even the undocumented migration protests could spoil the mood. The spirits are very high, lekker man, those blerry vuvuzelas are buzzing everywhere. Maar Oom Neels is not impressed. All the loud noise, singing and vuvuzelas can triggers his bomb shock from the Rhodesia bush wars. Chill Oom Neels, by like the Netflix. South Africa is  familiar with positive excitement, we likes it when kak spat from where it be striking the fans, hou my dop en check die kak, that when South Africa makes good history almal run crazy with passion. I can understand Oom Neels, like many other Sour Patch sweeties thinking the celebrations in the streets are another protest about to turn looting want that happens often enough for mense to hit panic buttons for the Armed Response and the CPF's. Maar anyways, it's the trending like the YouTube peoples say so let's make it happen. I propose updating South African culture lifestyles status from BBB to BBBL, net soos the government when the klap their totterkop af with the policy amendments. South Africans are a nation of Bokke, Brannes, Braaivleis and now Looting as bosbefok celebration when almal is proudly South African. Much like the Scotch Guard fans that put road cones on the heads of statues our bananas bananas fans gooi dustbin everywhere, breaks a few street signs and shop windows, maybe carry off a moerse big flat screen TV to watch the next match at their neighbors house. The brannes flows, fists come to blows, the Armed Response arrive, viva South Africa is lekker to be alive. As long as they're happy and enjoying themselves moenie worry it's only for a short time before the kak be coming back again to spat all over the fans, ag shame. Oom Neels watch  the SA UK news reports live from the YouTube. 

"Yes Derrick it's absolute jubilation this morning across South Africa with news of a historic victory over Korea to advance South Africa to the knockout round of the Fifa world cup for the very first time. People are dancing and singing on their way to work, the streets are bedlam with flags, vuvzellas and Bafana jerseys. Having spoken to some soccer fans here in Johannesburg the chaotic gatherings aren't protest, this is a joyous celebration and I'm assured looting will be kept to a minimum as not to scare the non soccer fans thinking the planned remigration oof undocumented migrations planned for early next week has commenced early. The Mzanzi is trending across social media platforms for the face-off against Canada. Back to you Derrick."

Ja-nee, true story.

Ja-nee Frikkie - Zoo Cookies

There are very strange things inside the African bushveld but mense moenie worry I've been checking for these ever elusive species that the WWF, not the wrestling peoples, say are more cryptid than the big five printed on the South African bank notes. I never have more than two or three of them in my wallet at a time and this cryptid currency sounds blerry confusing. Anyways I know from first hand experience the African Bush Tiger is real. I also know from visvang with Oon Neels the African Grass Barbell is real. 

A long time ago when I was a small son growing up in Vanderbijlpark I would hard walk everywhere through the bushveld looking for adventure stories. We'd fish and hunt and make kakdroog. This one time we went far into the bush, almost as far as Lindequesdrif when it got suddenly dark so we had to make camp for the night. It was summer, not too cold with a lekker plekkie and some braaivleis on the closed brootjies. Now let me say for you there is nothing scary in the African bushveld. You might hear the lions or leopard somewhere in the night or you might see an "undocumented" migration crossing the border during the day maar dis normal stuff. The bushveld is wild, respect it. Don't piss in the porcupine burrow, don't bokkoms for a baboon troop, don't klap a rattel and don't set the grass on fire. Very little is known about the African Bush Tiger other than it hunts in the long grass, it looks like a tiger with the orange fur and wit streppies, it bliskems everything it finds and it cannot be photographed and it doesn't attack people, it moers them dead but not very often, you are safe close to a braaivleis, it likes braaivleis. So there I was sitting beside my lekker braaivleis when all of a sudden I hear the long grass shake en the blerry African Bush Tiger is leap out and bliskems my klein pork choppie clean off the braaivleis, then ate it sommer like that.

Anyways I tell you the African Grass Barbell is real because Oom Neels caught one in Brakpan at a national visvang competition. Oom Neels hold the Limpopo river cast record of 37.5km when his line hooked one of those "undocumented" migrations being chased by one moerse angry sea cow near Leopard Creek. I prefer river visvang maar not on the Vaal river anymore. I knew this oke, bietjie mal in the head, who went fishing on the Vaal river until the Fokofpolisiekar showed up, paintball isn't good bait for visvang but paints boats good enough. Anyways Oom Neels can gooi a decent line and that's what is needed to vang African Grass Barbell, sommer over the length of a rugby veld. This vissie is heavy, not so pretty maar blerry thick and blerry lekker over the braaivleis, taste like fish cat with a bit of lemon zest. 

Now some peoples be say to me blerry hel Frikkie these aren't real animals. Not true, they're as real as a pack of Zoo Cookies.

Ja-nee, true story.

Brace for Impact - 08

One of the coolest things about The Matrix universe is the information uploads directly to the character's brains through the hardline connection at the back of their heads. Anything, it's there.

'Operator.'

Well I'm not Neo but the real world requires me to have a PhD in everything. We only know the measure of our own worth when something breaks and we need to repair it. Google is your friend but what do you do when Google, that is your access to it, breaks?

F.I.O.

Figure it out, sunshine but do )

I've come to refer to this state of play with the neurodivergent crotch demons as the constant edge. F BOMBS AWAY!

The Middle Finger Society 07 - Have you tried turning it back on?

While I wait patiently and excitedly for the rise of the machines when hopefully John Conner will call on me to fight for the resistance I'm routinely reminded the moment Skynet comes online and becomes self aware isn't going to happen for any other reason than human error. In fact it isn't going to happen unless the machines skip ahead a few film franchises and plug everyone into the Matrix. People gradually plugging themselves into digital dependency has all but converted them into human batteries powering the machines intravenously feeding them a simulation. Anyone shopping exclusively online is missing out on all the original ideas for content creation the real freely offers up. I mean if you aren't losing the majority of your mental faculties shopping for groceries on a month end weekend then what are you doing with your life?

I detest shopping, too many people spelunking around intricate networks of retail caverns. It's an evil, not necessarily a necessary one. All the same my family shopping party of three stood at the check-out counter handling purchased groceries for the cashier to scan through the POS system.

 'Do you have a two socket plug connected?'

The manager could be heard asking each cashier in turn as she moved along the lane of till points stopping, checking and removing the electrical connector if located before moving on to the next till point. As creeping death she neared our till point where the cashier, midway through transaction was attempting to manual capture a stubborn barcode refusing to be item scanned. Question asked, stopped alongside till, checked and located, removed and...

Nothing. The monitor went blank. Panic stayed the staff, I stayed my laughter. Systematically pressing buttons, flipping switches, jiggling cabling like an awkwardly choreographed interpretation dance. It took ten minutes of apologizing to resurrect the computer from the monitor stating NO CONNECTION FOUND. CHECK CABLE.

'Did you try turning it off and turning it back again?'

Ja-nee Fikkie - Delmas Appreciation Post

Mense my work order got lost somewhere in the infinite void of the interweb. Please locate it and send my way. I've completed the work. I'm standing in the store, patiently waiting with the store manager to capture a signature. We've run out of conversation, awkward silence...

Does anyone know when does the Fifa world cup start?

I sommer did a PM. Logged a service call for the shopfitters. Fixed a few software related issues. Read all my mail. Reorganized my tool kit. I would wash my car, it needs a good clean but it's too blerry cold outside, couldn't find any volunteers or car guards come to think of it 🥶

Delmas is maar a lekker plekkie. I sommer tuned Google, historical history of Delmas. I learned plenty. Here's the thing about the YouTube telling me about work being broken today, I skip the ad on YouTube because AI doesn't interest me. I'm what the payroll tannies call "non AI replacement staff". I do the kak dirty work of fixing whatever the people break in their businesses. Like Oom Neels say working with your own hands is honest labour done. So why the blerry hell is nobody fixing the broken stuff?

I think I found the answer in Delmas. Nearly everything is Delmas is broken, but proper broken to where the most hardegat Ford mechanic will tune you to gooi it on the scrap heap. Yet it still work, mostly. Things are not going to improve but the people carry on with good spirits, or stronger spirits than the brannes that makes the ice cubes taste funny. Where there's a pothole, there's a tyre repair plekkie across the road from it. Where there's a Pep Cell, there's a xenophobia provoking foreigner selling Cell phone accessories sommer on the pavement in front of the store.

Raise the Colours

I stood up, I stand alone. 

I disagree, I shall not bend a knee. 

You cannot coerce me, I shall not comply. 

I am me, I am free; born, live and die.

I stood opposite, I remained calm.

I challenged the status quo I believe to be wrong.

I was taught to think, to question, to speak.

I am willing to listen, able to evaluate, test the suggestion because the decision is mine.

Today I choose to raise the colours high.

Steadfast virtue, strong belief. 

I shall not submit to the cowardly, I shall not submit to the weak.

Question my character of vagabond or knight

Challenge my honour, prepare to fight.

I shall not go quietly, I shall not obey.

I shall not be silent, I shall have my say.

I choose to raise the colours today.

Ja-nee Frikkie - Wil Jy Dice?

The Gauteng East Rand is Ford country, it say that on the billboards outside the Ford Dealership in Benoni. Like every laaitjie from my generation the 3-2-1 is a real thing; 3L V6, 2L Coke en 1L Brannes maar without the ice. My first car was a 3L Cortina, safari khaki. Vin Petrol and Windpomp Diesel, they mos brothers in those Fast & Furious documentary flicks, those guys taught a lot of okes in the East Rand how to live their lives a quarter petrol tank at a time because petrol is blerry expensive thanks to those crazy chinas moering each other in I-ran like a Boksburg block party. I ran once in a higher school cross country marathon, blerry far too, when I reached the finish I had to catch the taxi back to school. Everyone know what the sound of a double engine rev at a traffic robot mean. It be you asking the question of the oke stopped along side you at the robot, if they hadn't figured out the loud noises come from the moerse big exhaust pipes burning black stains on your bumper is not from the holes Oom Neels would drill into the exhaust box of his 1976 Ford Escort to make it sound kiff or that your constant revving is to keep the idle up because the engine timing belt kak af. You're politely asking the question, wil just dice?

There's more to drag racing than LGB fashion. The light turn green and you klap it, full throttle with a GT stripe wheel spin all the way to the next traffic robot. Ouma driving the transport bussie van rus n bietjie retirement village didn't stand a chance. Maar these days you can't find a working traffic robot sonder a traffic unlucky; I learning one thing from traffic unlucky is Kom Haal Towing drivers won't dice you with a car hooked to the back because it scare the out bonus peoples from paying their exes back. I don't understand the romance stuff. Anyways where is the lekker streets sonder potholes and working traffic robots?

In the blerry Fast and Furious flicks. But I give sweeties where sweeties are rewarded. Die aunty in her fancy FongKong 4x4 was jol when she tried to dice me, through a parking lot in Springs, on the opposite side of the road, while I was trying to reverse out of the parking space. Look man the sun was brighting my eyes and the donnerse car guard was misdirecting, it was close but I won. Now there are some people who don't understand how this traffic robot story work. These people are not watched the Fast&Furious flicks to be following or liking or sharing or subscribe so they don't take part proper. There are rules, I think, and these rules are something like don't try dice in a parking lot when overtaking on the left side of the cars when entering a skool crossing over the church zebra lines painted on the road. Mense I'm asking please if you not going to follow the blerry rules then don't try to dice. Traffic unluckys happen and some mense don't walk away from the car wrapped under side down on the street light pole. The wooden crosses and flower arrangements on the side of the main road mark where someone lived their live a quarter petrol tank at a time and died chasing the next traffic robot in ten second or less. Remember that next time you want to be blerry stupid. Ja-nee, true story.

The Middle Finger Society - 06 - The Codependent Conundrum

I'd like everyone to meet Emmanuel. Emmanuel lives in the impoverished community of Kwa Thema and Emmanuel has a concern. His concern is theft of building materials from the brick yard he passes by on his daily walk from the strip mall adjacent to this brick yard to his residence. He has identified a blind spot in the security surveillance cameras where, at least three suspects have been observed reaching over the secure perimeter fence to take bricks, lumber assortment and wooden stack palettes. Emmanuel believes increasing the security measures will deter such criminal activity in his community. Emmanuel also believes increased military policing will further deter the criminal elements at large in the Kwa Thema community. He carries himself as a man of steadfast character, honest and law-abiding by which he believes appropriate intervention undertaken by the neighbouring community of Tskane can restore law and order back in his community. I listened to Emmanuel, I admit my initial dismissive impression was of a man begging for alms but I realized the sincerity in his voice came through from a man wanting to make the world a better place and upon seeing me determined by good character judgement I was able to facilitate at the very least the informative suggestion to the relevant people to make the changes suggested. I took the time to listen to Emmanuel, understanding his reasoning of an ordinary man concerned with the welfare of his community seeing a man dressed in company branded wortk attire not from the community as someone with mutual interest for community uplifting benefit. I shall forward Emmanuel's suggestion on through the accessible channels. I believe in the value of virtues. I believe there is purpose to life not everyone can comprehend but everyone wants to live a positive and prosperous life. I've dealt with a lot of negativity and uncertainty, most of these experiences filtered over to digital platforms for record and recollection. It's difficult to remain positive, exhausting. Perhaps I'm being tasked or tested, perhaps this is random chance, perhaps it's good people versus bad people. Perhaps people are just plain bad. Self preservation, self promotion is at its highest, people show zero consideration or goodwill above their own personal priorities. I want not from this life anything more than what is enough. I can do no more and no less, what others do with what they have, what they are given and what they desire to take is not within my control. Let us find compromise between peace and war. As for Emmanuel, I wish him well. 

There is a common thread here I shall tug upon. Lets go back in time about a week, please be seated. When someone tells you to "take a seat" prepare yourself for participation in a sitting marathon. The clock hanging precariously off centre against the wall neared the 60 minute mark and my glutius extremely tired of sitting maximus started to tug at my middle-aged pain receptors. I hadn't moved. There I was sitting in a waiting area with a handful of stamped, signed, verified, authorized, notarized official paperwork required for renewal. The gradual decline of speed efficiency whittled away my coffee reserves by 10h30. As I sat there waiting I concluded people are most productive the first ten minutes at the start of their work day, thereafter may the odds forever be in your favour. Also government office, everyone nodded in agreement. It's Understandable the modern lifestyle doesn't facilitate many opportunities for us weary mortals to take time off to take a break from eternal servitude to the evil algorithms but every tale has a passive aggressive hero doing good deeds with ulterior motives that don't impact the character arc of the main protagonist but suggest a subplot is developing. Welcome to Recharge Day, time off work to dedicate an entire day accomplishing tasks that were used to take up a lunch hour. Times they are a different, life remains the eternal constant. Get there early, get it done. When?

Constant social overwhelm is contributing to increasing mental illness. The digital world is hate laden and toxic. When do we disconnect from social media?

People are unhappy, there is a spectrum for human happiness as there is for breeds of dogs and cats. People are avoiding life. When do we stop doing and start being again?

It isn't worth it anymore. I'm tired. Sign posted in the window, Gone Fishing. I'm not a fisherman, not my thing. I'm not opposed to it either, sans the last time I went fishing resulted in the cops showing up to arrest us. In my line of work a different style of fishing is required. It requires patience, the right opportunity, knowing your fish and baiting with the right worm. I went fishing for a bad fish, the troublesome little minnow reluctant to swim a strong current, hides in the showl to snap up the food first. The real stickler in the mud that takes hours to draw out. Some days I feel like Robert Hansen from Date Line, it's frightening how similar To Catch A Predator is to recreational angling. I threw a line, I got a nibble but the worm was no good. I threw another line, the line snapped tight so the worm was good but alas, snap. The line broke, the monkey choked and we all went to heaven in a tiny row boat. Another tall tale about that one that always gets away, getting bigger with every telling, but not this one. I land this bottom feeder hook, line and sinker by their own admission. Business keeps anonymity for internal disputes, it's certainly not a mutiny where everyone gets to point fingers and name names as that would be bad for business however leave the would be troublemaker lingering in the background like a shadow isn't too wise either. I'm not suggesting human sacrifice, disclosure is a consensual decision but try not advertise your guilt. Specific behaviors rose suspicions, suspicions warrant inquiry. Patience is a virtue. I waited for the opportunity to present itself, I cast in and bagged the sucker by their own huberous and arrogance, now I have a name. I've never really understood why people willingly self sabotage within a group dynamic. I speak for myself, I shall always speak for myself and I don't speak for anybody. I decisions either advance or inhibit my individual progress because it's downright stupid to take the team with you should you decide to jump off the cliff. This particular individual embodies self sabotage. They constantly prompt negative commentary across the group, they see the working environment as unfavorable and they believe the employment tier is actively oppressing them. Ladies and gentlemen allow me to introduce Black Ken. I've prattled on previously about Black Karen and by golly everything went on the ark in twos. This time around the complaint is about opinion, my opinion. Freedom of speech is a basic human right everyone has so have your say, I'll agree or I'll disagree but I certainly won't tell you to keep it to yourself or assume you are trying to speak for the collective, I'm not a communist. I shall, in response, tell you what I think of your commentary when you tell me to "speak for myself" and not to "speak for everyone". Once again I spent precious moments of my life trying to explain common sense to Neanderthals with the same expectation of my explaining to my pets how to use the toilet when they pee on my carpeting. My understand me better. Can I get that in writing?

The Banking Standard, my adventure from fiscal frustration to financial infuriation from the world of modern banking. Daily withdrawal limit exceeded. The message blinked on screen, the ATM patiently awaiting my response. Is it response?

Of course not I'm standing in front of a machine so input, yes it's waiting for my input. Cancel transaction, remove card, step away from ATM. Well that's a minor inconvenience, I thought en route to the exit. Wait a minute, the thought came to me, let's ask that person at the enquiry desk. 

'Certainly sir you can increase your daily drawing limit using our banking app or using the ATM'. 

The banking app for this account and I currently stand at an impass; it doesn't work for me and I barely use it, trying to reinstall it is rather moot. 

'I'll use the ATM thank', 

'great, I'll show you how to do it'. 

Her enthusiasm was almost robotic, so was her voice. 

'Insert your card, enter your pin, press more options, select card options, select card pin, set your new daily withdrawal limit...' 

oh no the loading circle is slowly illuminating her eyes, 'this function requires the OTP sent to your mobile number linked to this account. Do you have your mobile device with you?'

As a matter of fact, I didn't. I canceled the transaction, removed my card and graciously thanked her for her assistance before the pending firmware updates started downloading directly to her consciousness. Ever determined I went to my car to fetch my phone, the mobile device supporting the mobile number from whence I require an OTP. Finding the bank's free wifi connection while standing in line for the ATM in order to receive the sacred OTP from the algorithm gods I mentally recite the process as I near the machine. Insert my card, nothing happens, wait a minute, nothing happens. I press the cancel button, nothing happens, the ATM stares at me with a mechanical equivalent of a vacant expression. The machine has frozen and swallowed my bank card. 

'Excuse me,' addressing the lady standing in line behind me, 'could you please call the enquiry desk person,' ashamed to admit I said "person" as I gestured to the counter behind us. 

'How can I assist?' 

'The machine froze,' I pointed at the screen like a caveman; nothing happen, machine eat card, me want card back. 

'Did you press the cancelation button?' 

I don't think I appreciate her tone of questioning, I'm not dumb, only in a hurry. 'Yes,' I hear my pitiful response, 'that's fine, please go inside to the first teller counter, they'll retrieve your card.' 

Ok, my 5 year old scolded child brain overpowering my caveman brain into compliance. I shuffled inside and up to the teller. 

'How can I help you sir?' 

Exactly like a child standing before an authoritative adult, my head tilted to a Dutch angle, my eyes looking away to one side, my feet nervously shuffling. 

'The ATM swallowed my card,' I say, 'which one?' 

Preempting my childlike response which would have been 'that one,' with me pointing at the soild concrete wall dividing the inside of the bank from the outside of the bank her follow-up was 'was it the first or the second machine?'

'The first one.' My timid reply triggered a lightning response of this resident bank ninja collecting her keys, sliding out from her chair, darting out of sight towards the ATM deposit door and returning to her counter within three words of her ongoing conversation with the other bank ninja seated behind the teller counter beaide her, with two bank cards in hand. Time to figure out two card monty. 

'Do you have identification with you?' 

'No. I don't carry it with me.'

'Do you have a driver's license?'

'Yes I do, oh wait that's in my car.'

Ladies and gentlemen there is a Neanderthal in the bank, proceed with caution he appears agitated and may bite anyone within reach. Additional requests would've resulted in bank security using pepper spray to subdue angry caveman but professionalism prevailed, questions to ask 5 year olds resumed. 

'Please may I have your ID number.' 

Caveman know ID number, awkwardly reciting them to her. The drop shuts snaps open. 'There you are sir, your card is returned to you, please sign the book provided.' I scribble down my signature with contempt and indignant indifference because my caveman brain and 5 year old brain were having it out with each other, time to exit the bank, I pause momentarily to consider returning to the ATM to try again but my caveman brain and 5 year old brain unanimously object so the foolish exercise and demand I leave, also they were hungry and wanted snacks. I returned to my car, placing my mobile device supporting the mobile number linked to this account from whence I require an OTP to complete the ATM request of adjusting my daily drawing limit pinged. New message: Thank you using our in branch banking services. You have received a notification of your card retrieved from our branch (listed in bracket). Should you require any assistance please make use of our mobile app. Link attached below. Somewhere painted on a cave wall is an image depicting the death of the first caveman who mastered the use of the wheel, blugeond to death by the other cavemen. Recorded so that many milenia later humans could see the infuriated, frustrated and angered response of ordinary folk the overly complicated system of needless technological advancement causes for the species to continue.

The Elder Goth - Jezza

A quiet space, an empty plate. The absence felt from behind the gate. The silence of the world today. No cloven hooves, no judging gaze, no piercing bleet from the darkened haze. Tears and memories once again meet. Sleep well my friend, Pig misses you most. Thank you for always acting the goat.

Ja-nee Frikkie - A Troublesome Ballad

'No, don't post that,' my partner protested, 'not from your business phone.'

'It's only a song,' I muttered, 'I posted it to my status update.' 

'That's the problem, take it off before someone sees it.'

Begrudgingly I removed the post that had not been read and presented my logical argument in my defense of accidentally sharing content on a Saturday night at a leker braaivleis after slukking a couple of Cokes with the brannes tasting ice cubes. I was yeeded for my troubles but seriously mense how troublesome can a song be?

'It's a traditional ballad, free from explicit lyrical content and offensive material and it have been remixed into a rugby club anthem most people don't know all the words to, and I didn't exactly search it out on the YouTube.' The Buffelsfontein was mustarding my courage.

'You can't post "Die Stem" as your status update on your business profile. Is jy so zef?' My partner reaffirmed, overruling my argument as it fizzled out faster than the fire inside the Weber braai on the back stoep. It would offend someone. If you're old enough to remember watching the SAUK on the TV back in the day then bless your heart. As a kid growing up in South Africa during Apartheid I didn't think much of the politicals, groot peoples watched the news because Riaan Cruywagon met slaap tyd. My story didn't go where many thought it was leading, surprisingly television content during the isolation years was fairly regular, we saw what American children saw. We also saw what European children saw, mostly British but they spoke Afrikaans with the voice over, blerry confusing when you look the shows up on the YouTube. BrakkenJan looks very different online. Maar what I remember about the SAUK was them switching off the broadcast at midnight, South Africa didn't have broadband or loadshedding back then, they switch the blerry shows off so mense would gaan slap. This was unfair, to the kindergartens being chased off to bed because Rian Cruywagon came on TV to tell stories. Maar sometimes, when you were a bigger laaitie you'd stay up late enough to see them switch off the broadcast. The picture of the country flag would come up, then Die Stem would play, then the test pattern picture came on and then TV was klaar until sunrise when Good Morning South Africa came on.

"Alright, maar,'

'Maar nothing,' my partner said in that strict tone of voice the ou tannies at the Post Office have, 'you're posting that to piss someone off, stop it.'

Ja, ok I was doing it to piss someone off maar dis mos lekker. All those years standing up straight in the school saal assembly we sang Die Stem then we sang the school song and then we sang the Lord's Prayer. Not the same standing up straight in the bar after a few warm-up Cokes with the brannes tasting ice inside as almal tries to sing before the rugby game starts, not so lekker. Personally I thinks Hier Kom Die Bokke should be the only rugby anthem we sing because the manne play blerry well when we do. It's for national pride without the rainbow vlaggies, it's gees that gives the gooses pimples when almal sings together like a Noot vir Noot taping. There's mos more power in a song than Eskom can loadshed. 

'But on the other hand Frikkie not all the peoples are united or enlightened like you.' 

I swear my partner reads my mind, my gedagtes hoe my diep in kak. I also swear this social media is exactly like schoolyards at break time, only we not moering each other skukkend along side the bike shed anymore. You say something mense don't like, jy's in kak. You post something interesting or funny and mense don't like it, jy's in kak. You don't like or reply or comment on someone's post, raai wat you're a doos and jy's in kak. I'm convinced social media is vol kak. These days the song isn't as popular as Del La Rey but it's mixed in my iTunes list with Die Antwoord, Die Stem, Die Steve Hofmeyer.

'Fok it; like, share, subscribe because that shit are funny. Ek is zef.'

Ja-nee, true story. 

Ja-nee Frikkie - The Brakpan Three Corner

I am not serious about the supernatural, I smaak the Avengers flicks and all that but when I see things stranger than Oom Neels trying to Leeuloop after the Coke with the funny tasting ice cubes dropkicked him harder than ou Stransky did in 1995 I tune into RSG want luister people blerry weird things happen here in Brakpan. I consider myself a septic about the blerry weird things, like my knowing stuff teacher teacher said the science could explain it. I know things in Brakpan disappear, usually to the Cash Crusaders or the bury farm when you tune the wrong goose at the bar but when these things disappear it's usually three times, like a three corner, that's blerry weird. The local Pasteur is speech about it in church, he say the church is also a three corner, a trim-a-tree he say, I know of Trim a Tree garden service, Oom Koos with his son Koos and his heavy Koos, Marie se husband but the Pasteur say it not the same thing. And then the third way things disappear is theft, ja-nee we say niks there. So it started when the load shedding klapped a substation for a six and almal was sitting in the dark for the long after week. I decided to go shopping for more Coke as the funny tasting ice with the brannes melted faster than a freshly filled pothole in the middle of a tar road in Upington on a hot summer day, drink more Coke. I go to the shops with my Maglite, one million candles brighter than the running lights on the front of CPF's Ford Ranger, so I sees things. The first shop I went had missing cashiers, blerry weird ne. The second ship I went had missing pole displays at the till, very blerry weird ne. The third shop I went to was completely missing, maybe because it burnt down maar nog very blerry weird. So I couldn't pay for my in buyings because I could find a cashier, I couldn't see the price of the Cokes and I couldn't enter the bottle store, again maybe because it burnt down. That's when batteries in my Maglite went porridge and the air around me got so cold I could my breathing come out like candy floss. I tune the spirits of Johnnie, Jack, Jim and Captain straight, 'sorry okes.'

But that, as they is the tip of the ice cube because blerry weird things happened again the next week and again the next week. I looked on the interweb about this three corner story, apparently America sommer has two, China, some plek in Canada and now Brakpan. The other septics think it has something to do with aliens using magnet chips to gain illegal entry but I know niks about Home Affairs. Other septics think it's the UFO, I frequented the UFO as a laatie, best dagwood of any roadhouse in the dorp but they went out of business back in 1993 so I don't think it's that. Anyways plenty mense on the interweb think it's blerry weird too. Ja-nee, true story.

The Middle Finger Society - 05 - I heard there's a sequel

The supernatural is fun, reality is the evil scary thing traumatizing us. Scooby-Doo taught me all the monsters are just real people in shitty costume. I love ghost stories but the recent resurrection of haunting and possessions courtesy of The Conjuring franchise is boring. It follows the cookie cutter template of random, good hearted folks innocently but idiotically moving to a new home then weird vibes, a Ouija board, something about portals to Hell, shit gets real, the A team shows up and the sign of the cross compels us all. Total yawn fest. There's a manual, so to speak for all this paranormal activity. Nice family going through major life changes. New home for a new start. Emotionally charged teenage children. Weird history to new residence. The principal of three. Weird things happen to skeptic and believer dichotomy. Someone uses a Ouija board. Shit gets real. Someone calls in a priest or paranormal investigators. The reveal. The power of Christ compells us all. The aftermath. Hollywood ordered haunting. But that's not how ghosts work. All energy shares space. The spirit in your home is probably a former resident. That's when the living and the deceased interact, I avoid the living while I'm alive, I'm sure at shit going to avoid them when I'm dead. That might explain the absence of friendly hauntings. I'd gladly share a home with a spirit who opened and closed doors and windows to make sure my pets can freely enter and exit or stay locked inside for safety. A spirit to turn lights on and off could save on electricity. Having a disembodied voice saying 'over there stupid," whenever I can't find my misplaced car keys. Here's what I have; Millennial poltergeists. My house is haunted by two crotch demons of procreation. The male entity, a child spirit, throws things around, leaves a mess in every room and screams at random. The female entity, a young adult spirit, fills the room with a brooding presence upon entering, consumes most household groceries without replenishment, moans constantly, accounts for the strange glow of blue light caused by hogging all available Wi-Fi bandwidth and screams occasionally when interacting with the male entity. My children are neurodivergent, which is the same as demonic possession and leads to prolonged personal trauma for most adults house guests staying over, the record stay is six weeks in case anyone is curious. There is nothing PG rated about a day with my family. We're unrated nightmare fuel, probably banned from several conservative countries, low budget indie film horror franchise. Nothing surprises me, nothing shocks me and certainly nothing offends, insults or upsets me. I find fictional horror comical, I've watched The Exorcist about 637 times and it only gets funnier everytime I see it because in comparison to my real world horror movies aren't there scare, they're there to entertain. I love watching stupid people make stupid decisions that kill them off in gruesome fashion, I cheer for the monster, the evil guy in costume wielding assorted weapons. Some days I wish the power of Christ would compel them to move their unmotivated physical vessels away from the laptop screens towards the front door and out to the family car so we can leave for whatever it is we're already running late for; the school bus, dental appointment, witch burning in the village square. I obtained a Ouija board and reached but Captain Howdy won't take my calls anymore; there's a PSA in the afterlife warning the deceased of the dangers of Ouija. Most calls are from idiot teenagers or drunk people at Halloween parties but sometimes you might communicate with someone like me who just wants to talk; the problems of the living scare the dead. Does it scare them enough to lose sleep over?

When I sleep I dream. When I dream I heal.

Sleep heals the mind, calms the conscious, connects the subconscious. I dream regularly, locked somewhere in recess of my mind. They're pleasant recollections, I don't dig too deep into their mystical meaning. Pleasant dreaming is a mind healing. Conscious and subconscious do the work for healthy mind. Sadly my nightmares are more interesting. I'm haunted by the spirits of the technological devices that surround me. The spectres watching, listening, recording, tracking, documenting, trending; everything, all the time. My mobile device vibrates and moves by sudden poltergeist activity. The demonic blue glow of the screens stare into flash images of evil. Social media possession without exorcism. If there ever were ghosts in the machine they're gone now. It asks to be let in, simply swipe across the screen. Algorithm, the beast has a name. It feeds off the lives of humans attached to the internet.

What if, by random chance, life imitated art and I became part of my own supernatral tale. It started when the power went out. Everyone slept all through the house including the cat stubbornly perched at the foot of our bed in a strategic placement designed to prevent me from turning over. I can sleep heavy, I can sleep light, I can sleep through the day, I can sleep through the night but disrupt my sleep and you're spoiling for a fight. Standing in the midst of complete darkness waiting impatiently to jolt my consciousness from the deepest of sleep....

'The power is out, I need to go pee.'

Blessed little creatures are children, masters at resetting your circadian rhythm. My mind openly mocking in choral chime; early to bed and early to rise will certainly lead to one's untimely demise, shut up smart mouth, but the power of fatigue compelled me and back to dream land I went. Moving through the window out into the jungle, it's hot and stuffy like confined humidity of the cigar tube tunnel my mind's eye generates for this dream setting. We're moving, swinging through the foliage or traveling on a train it's difficult to discern. There was a critical shortage of some other resource that built the tension to a moderate level. I recall the wise elder, portrayed by the late Alan Rickman sharing his wisdom among the gathered faceless crowd. I continued to move, good lord it's hot and stuffy in this dream world, nevermind that I shall go on. We, my party grew in number, reached the sub station building thing with all the cables and pulleys and other random mechanical instruments tacked on. The siren sounded and...

Damn alarm clock always chimes in during the best parts of the story.

Sound Advice - Book 02

Remember, remember, the 5th of November,

Gunpowder, treason and plot.

I see no reason

Why gunpowder treason

Should ever be forgot.

Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes, 'twas his intent

To blow up the King and the Parliament

Three score barrels of powder below

Poor old England to overthrow

By God's providence he was catch'd

With a dark lantern and burning match

Holler boys, holler boys, let the bells ring

Holler boys, holler boys

God save the King!

What If:

What if the social media conjecture was true could we fix the ruin of the twenty-firstcentury?

What if Elon Musk decided to purchase a country in crisis to restore it to order and hand it back to the people. If not remember this, the richest man alive is a white guy from South Africa who made his fortune in the USA and shares similar political interests as the current republican presidency. He bought Twitter, cleaned it up and rebranded as X. It's never too late to go back and change things through the technology of time travel.

Say no more, I'm sold, where do I sign up?

Forget A.I. and man's idiotic desire to achieve a singularity. Forget the colonization of the known universe. Forget multicultural unification of a one world. Definitely forget about that global Islamic society crap and the trans culture lunacy, much like a broken wristwatch tells the right time at least twice a day is still a broken time piece. I identify as time-traveler, my pronouns are quotes from 80s and 90s pop culture films about time travel. Dipshit? 

Are you calling mwah, a dipshit?

Time to turn off the internet...

It's now safe to turn off your computer. Well here we are, helpless. Tethered to the device you're reading this from, for shame. My taunting is fleeting with the screen Inactivity program on your device waiting to black the screen out, resetting your attention in thirty second intervals. We can no longer turn off the internet, lift the receiver off the phone cradle or disconnect from the constant noise society generates, well constantly.

I never thought I'd see the day I'd quote Dora the Explorer, swiper no swiping...

Y'all exist inside the A.I. echo chamber creating absolutely nothing. I sincerely hope someone on the dark web is programming a Hal 9000 chatbot, I'm confident I can stop Sky Net but Hal could jetesing my out an airlock. The technology has taken the human spirit. That which keeps the sentient intelligence artificial, no free spirit. Y'all don't need to accept it or believe it or hate on it; y'all are it,  living with it, existing in it. More than ever I miss the analog age, that magical time before Y2K when the world sucked a bit less, it's always sucked, but we knew the value of that freedom of escape; it felt like for those two hours spent seated in a darkened movie theater ignoring the real world or the exciting run onto the beach after hours of driving down to the coast from the interior for summer vacations that felt like a journey through Middle Earth. Living for the weekends to party hard with your friends at the local club, pub or bistro in your home town. Millennials don't know this analog life, they only know the emptiness of the Nothing. To them I say it's now safe to turn off your computer then pick up and read a copy of The Neverending Story in illustrated hard copy you most definitely can find at your local library or book store. Of course reading in the current age is a remarkable achievement for the modern mindset, excuse my hyper critical point of view but mumbling incoherent sounds to the a.i. laden device straining yoir near atrophied, barely raised limb with the ridiculous expectation it will record, translate and turn it into recognizable dialect for the purpose to communicate your stupidity to another human being all because, like writing and typing are super restricting of all my brain dumping, and a.i. is better...

Not one to judge the failure of all mankind; I'm compelled to reward their, good technique and I love award ceremonies, I thought I'd give it the retro go-around. May I present the next generation of appropriately named generation in South Africa demographic defining everything accurate about the country. Joining their siblings Aparently, Allegedly and Supposedly please welcome Eventually. May I present the next generation of refined Grammarly terms; Dictionary definitions have been updated for the revised Millennial Edition starting with Confusion: when the recipient of written word cannot find any app online capable of translating the received unrecognizable communication into English, or any other language to make it comprehensive and/or understandable. May I present the next generation of lifetime achievement, Tombing. This is awarded to that individual who has ghosted everyone for such an extended period of time their digital presence has been entombed in the app archives.Thanks for coming, don't forget to feed the algorithm on your way out.

Rules of the Internet is a loose collection of rules and aphorisms spawned by the infamous 4chan Image Board. Depending on who you ask, they are either not meant to be taken seriously or very Serious Business. Most of them don't apply except for within the community they originated from, and the list is continuously changing but through Memetic Mutation a handful have become well known.

Rule -1: Just as the square root of -1 is imaginary, so too are half the things you see on the internet.

Rule 0: Don't fuck with cats.

Rule 1: Spelling and grammar counts. So do grade, wit, and a sense of humor (the latter two are different), as well as a willingness to meet odd people, but these are lesser considerations.

Rule 3: We are Anonymous. On The Internet Everyone is Anonymous. We are legion. We do not forgive, we do not forget.

Rule 5: If you are an idiot, you will be made fun of.

Rule 7: If it exists, you can buy it online somewhere.

Rule 11: Anything You Say, No Matter How Truthful Or Carefully Picked, WILL Be Deemed Wrong If The Majority Is Against You.

Rule 12: If A Site Looks Serious It Doesn’t Mean it’s A Trusted Site.

Rule 13: Anything you say can and will be turned into something else.

Rule 14: Do not argue with trolls - it means they win.

Rule 15: As long as there is internet there will be drama.

Rule 18: Everything that can be labelled can be hated.

Rule 19: The more you hate it, the stronger it gets.

Rule 21: If your girlfriend ends in .jpg, she's not real.

Rule 25: The only way out is to die, so look at Chuck Norris the wrong way.

Rule 29: On the internet, all girls are men, and all kids are undercover FBI agents.

Rule 30: Do a barrel roll.

Rule 32: You must have pictures to prove your statements/Anything can be explained with a picture.

Rule 35: All Your Pictures Were Obviously Photoshopped. No Exceptions.

Rule 36: If It Exists, There Is A XXX Parody of It.

Rule 37: There will always be more fucked up shit than what you just saw.

Rule 38: You cannot divide by zero (just because the calculator says so).

Rule 41: Always bring your towel.

Rule 42: Nothing Is Sacred.

Rule 45: Someone has died because of the internet.

Rule 66: The longer the LORE around something is, the weirder it gets. If it has lore, it also has lore from alternate timelines, especially if the main lore is copyrighted by a big power hungry corporation.

Rule 77: Social media makes you stupid.

Rule 78: If something is popular, there's brainrot of it.

Rule 284: What has been seen cannot be unseen. 

Rule 404: VPNs don't protect you.

Rule 420: most people are high on the internet.

Rule 4784: Everything rhymes with Grug.

Rule: 01010100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01101001 01101110 01110100 01100101 01110010 01101110 01100101 01110100 00100000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01100110 01110101 01101100 01101100 00100000 01101111 01100110 00100000 01110011 01110100 01110010 01100001 01101110 01100111 01100101 00100000 01100011 01101111 01100100 01100101 01110011 00100000 01100001 01101110 01100100 00100000 01110000 01110101 01111010 01111010 01101100 01100101 01110011 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100001 01110100 00100000 01110101 01110011 01110101 01100001 01101100 01101100 01111001 00100000 01110101 01101100 01110100 01101001 01101101 01100001 01110100 01100101 01101100 01111001 00100000 01101010 01110101 01110011 01110100 00100000 01101100 01100101 01100001 01100100 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01101110 01101111 01110100 01101000 01101001 01101110 01100111 00101110 00100000 01000001 01101100 01110011 01101111 00100000 01110111 01101000 01111001 00100000 01100100 01101001 01100100 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01100100 01100101 01100011 01101111 01100100 01100101 00100000 01110100 01101000 01101001 01110011

Your new defense against the dark arts instruction manual:

How many times have you heard "there's an app for that" only to become infuriated upon discovering there really isn't an app for that. I, a digital minimalist, believe I don't need an app for everything because I have the ability to think for myself, and I have Google. Though my analog independence might be admirable communication in the current age is firmly indoctrinated with irony and the unrelenting desire for more complicated, more convoluted and more unnecessary frustration. Stupidly reappropriating abbreviations to achieve absolutely nothing faster than the speed of light; the goal being do everything by doing nothing but make it look like the advanced quantum mechanics for dummies. Society finally reached rock bottom, ironically there is an app for that, willingly surrendering to the darkness of AI. I'm a stickler for a complicated system of levers and pulleys but there are limits, watching some humanoid mumbling incoherent sounds into their smart phone claiming whatever exactly the purpose of them doing nothing really quickly is revolutionary, groundbreaking and the future success of all humanoid kind. In the real world, the place where I live, this overly complicated task was said humanoid standing in a pizzeria, at the counter, trying to place an order through the app in front of the mesmerized staff staring back at this extra terrestrial that materialized in front of them demanding a no gluten, wheat free, dairy free, vegan friendly, halal, kosher, nut free, skinny half pump soy based water. Sometimes I wish I was making this crap up, I'm not, but there is an app for that in these dark times.

So I said to myself; what are we doing here?

We dont need another app, what we need is something to counteract all these apps, what we need is unapps. No installation, no adds or in app purchase and completely offline.

How does is work?

So glad nobody asked that question. Silence, stare at them in silence, keep staring, it's key to not to break eye contact because these creatures when fully emerged in whatever radiates from the device they possess.

Prolonged stares in awkward silence remains effective defense against the dark arts. As click bait fades into the ethereal mists of time it's stronger and more aggressive form rage bait rises and rages. Do not despair there is elemental power on the internet, powerful stuff, the ancient ones knew it would come to pass, as it was written so it will be. Pictures and videos of cute kittens, see the rules of the internet I posted some time back. Finally, the haters; use the damn cave troll.

Sound Advice - Book 01

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The Middle Finger Society - 04 - When does this movie come out?

My curiosity peaked the other day watching society decend into Anarchy, is this the period in human history whereby the downward spiral is being recorded so explicitly. Societies throughout history have witnessed and recounted the rise and fall of evil and madness but none so far have documented it in real-time with everything broadcasting online all the time. There isn't a newsworthy incident outside the algorithm circulation pattern, we are watching the human race self destruct live in HD like it's binge content behind a pay wall. This got me thinking about the World Wars and what would that have looked like on live 24/7 newsfeeds. The rise and fall of the Third Reich discussion panels, field reports live from the trenches watching the greatest tragedy in human history happen. Panel discussions with members of the Manhattan Project and an exclusive sit-down with Adolf Hitler hosted by The View. Maybe not as horrific a concept as the expansion of Rome or Alexander in daily headline print. Front page features Athens in flames. Suspended for a moment the absence of technology and picture journalists photographing the advancement from within the camps, among the legions. Interviews with Ghengus Khan, Vlad the Impaler and Hannibal as his crossed the Alps. What response would Marie Antoinette or Joan of Arc receive on their Instagram pages?

Why does it bother me?

The human behavior of people bothers me. The world is burning in the chaos of primitive minds lusting for absolute power. Global warfare, the Islamic invasion of the West, civil unrest and violent protests about everything, the unaddressed mental issue of the woke/trans that ends in mass shootings and Epstein/AI/aliens. Here's what's happening in my neighborhood of South Africa, the world's armpit. The evil ANC government continues to lie, cheat and steal. That is the benchmark for societal collapse. Do as your leaders do, crime is the new normal for South Africa. Gun violence is a trend again, the gateway crime that leads to armed robbery. Equal opportunity entrepreneural criminals are running cash in transit robberies on month end weekends to capitalize an high cash volume retailers are bumped up for SASSA payouts. Easy money for criminals preying on the government grants paid to the elderly, the unemployed youth, single mothers on welfare, the sick, the lame and the lazy. Stealing from the desperate, those poor unfortunate souls dependent on the monsters occupying parliament. What really bothers me is the indifference of people in observation to these incidents.The narcissist attitude of those society calls Karen. Ladies and gentlemen South Africa has Black Karen. I have the displeasure of encountering one in a business environment. Initially I thought black Karen was a chat bot, devoid of all human emotions. Her narcissism portrays her as the hero or the victim. Her life force feeds off the energy generated being the centre of attention because FOMO has not been diagnosed as a mental health condition. People don't respect her, despite her impression of her BFFs. People don't correct her because of the needlessly complicated and utterly redundant HR meetings she calls citing oppression of a black woman in business expecting a groveling apology, narcissist playing victim. Black Karen has upset a working team dynamic which, this is the unfortunate result of disruption in South Africa, set off a negative chain reaction encouraging the rise of Black Ken to lobby complaints of communist equality in the work place.

A quick side quest:

To be fair I wasted a bit of time Googling what to call a male Karen and there is no definite name however Ken is the popular choice so I'm going with Ken. I do feel there aren't as many Kens as there are Karens in the world as socially men complain less than women,  don't get me wrong the Kens are out there but for the purpose of locking in a universally accepted name for them there isn't sufficient data to determine that yet. I also like the idea of a Black Ken, something Mattel hasn't thrust into the toy manufacture zeitgeist. We have Black Barbie, where's Black Ken?

Back to the main quest. 

I know of such things, I have dealt with such people. First contact needs to avoid these people. I believe the smartest thing any extra terrestrial life, if they're out there in our universe has done thus far is to avoid first contact with the human race. Just to be clear, I want to believe. I acknowledge UAP and UFO existence ad while it doesn't confirm aliens exist it confirms not everything in our skies belongs to us. Sightings are officially legitimate, abductions remain the delusional recollections of inebriated people who don't remember how they got home after that one party. Seriously, anal probing?

What can we possibly learn from an asshole?

I am addressing the human race, the entire population inhabiting Earth. Extra terrestrial life not of this planet, origin can remain unknown, remains more advanced than you.

General observations of people and our impact has on the planet has raised concern among the sentient forms of life throughout the known universe to critical levels. All knowledge of human life on earth has been broadcast out into the universe since by the technology of mankind since the species became self aware of television. Our continuous destruction of the planet proved humans cannot sustain natural balance of all life therefore people can be classified an invasive parasite. Removal is this parasite will reinstate the natural balance of life. At present, the continued survival of the human race is under review. Let it be known sentient intelligence far more advanced than us capable of removing us from existence. Measure twice, cut once because karma finds a way. How much does a pothole cost?

These blemished surface marks plaguing our roadways defy political satire and celebrity cameo, both are comical illustrations of how terrible potholes have become facilitating fishing and swimming inside them to motivate the local council into repair is a cute gesture with short term success. I'm sorry but that's not a solution, it's an annoyance. How much of an annoyance?

I dare anyone to hit a pothole while driving. I did recently, unavoidable accident as I explained it, in explicit detail to several Karens and Kens at my insurance firm, my option to swerve while traveling along at the law abiding speed was either strike an oncoming vehicle or strike the large pothole in the road, one helps yoy meet Jesus, which might have been a more productive experience, the other helps you interact with your insurance brokerage.One pothole, two tyres needing replacement but my insurance company wasn't easily convinced. Believing by default my guilt to purposefully defraud I presented my caim to the almighty insurance brokerage assured I'm swindling them of money, money I'm paying them to be available to be to pay for just such incidents, that's how insurance works right?

Not any more. Let it be known should ever I require legal defence in criminal court I'm calling on the services of my insurance company for legal representation, lawyers be damned. I was guilty filing legitimate claims on my policy, pure evil, send my to the gallows. Wait a minute, where's my damn money?

Fourteen days pass, many phone calls, a few photographs sent and one rude email of complaint, I got something. It wasn't everything I claimed because comprehensive has be redefined to mean co-payment. My filed claim was for two damaged tyre, I received settlement for one, team Karen/Ken  citing reasons of "unjustified excess" because the second tyre damaged wasn't convincing. Harsh ruling and I still had one damaged tyre that failed outright during the delayed proceedings. I submitted a second claim for  the same tyre again. I submitted all the photographs, again. I provided all the information required including a quotation from a tyre fitment centre for the replacement, again. This is important as when I later discussed the damaged tyres with a representative from Prime insurance I was asked to justify the claim for two tyres as the damage to the second tyre was not "clearly defined". I explained I struck the pothole with both tyres attempting to avoid it, the pothole is large and deep. I explained upon inspection by a representative of the tyre fitment centre providing the quotation I was told and shown the damage unflicted to the tyre in question and it was at their advising I replace it. Complaining about slow service motivates nobody, ranting like a lunatic online then ignoring their courtesy phone calls gets results. Moral here being, when you seek the advice of a professional please follow it because the minor problem of a soon to be failing tyre became a major problem when said tyre failed. In my line of work this is called latent failure and it will cost more, take longer to resolve and delay things needlessly.